


Hoggy Warty Hogwarts

by fish_shaped_bread



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Drarry, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Fifth Year, LGBTQ Themes, Luna Lovegood & Harry Potter Friendship, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley - Freeform, M/M, Marauders, Minor Cho Chang/Harry Potter, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Multi, One Big Happy Family, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters, The Golden Trio, The Golden Trio Era (Harry Potter), Well almost everyone, and super into draco, as in harry and co just get to be dumb magic teens, as in they help harry realize that he's bi, fuck Voldemort, good ol' teenage fun, harry and everyone friendship tbh, harry potter is a dumb bi, hey that's just how joanne wrote him, its what harry deserves, jily, let me have this, like strong lesbians heh, like super slow burn, romione, teenage fun, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28977084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_shaped_bread/pseuds/fish_shaped_bread
Summary: Magic is supposed to make everything easier. So why is it that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry seems to be one of the most difficult, most confusing experiences of sixteen-year-old Harry Potter's life? Even though it's his fifth year at school, Harry still feels utterly unprepared for illegally-smuggled dragons, Demonic Professor Snape's 200-question potions exams, past-curfew Quidditch matches, and most terrifying of all: other wand-wielding teenagers.[Basically a super self-indulgent AU fic where Voldemort does exist, and Harry Potter becomes a fun coming-of-age novel with a bit of magic and gayness.][Yes, gayness as in Drarry.][But slowburn because it's more fun that way. Hey, at least I already establish Wolfstar.]
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/Fred Weasley, Cho Chang/Cedric Diggory, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

As always, Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters was filled to the brim with magical beings on the first day back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A mother helped her Ravenclaw daughter double-check and haul the last of her luggage onto the train. A group of Hufflepuffs had gathered nearby to exchange Chocolate Frog cards, two friends heatedly bidding their collections for another friend’s extremely rare Cornelius Agrippa card. Of course, there were many unidentifiable students as well, bright-eyed first years excitedly awaiting their first taste of the real wizarding world. A gentle autumn breeze made colorful leaves dance above everyone’s heads, bringing a comfortable sort of child to the train station.

A chill that Gryffindor fifth-year Harry Potter could not feel at all, since he’d just been stuffed into the most hideous sweater in existence.

“Can I _please_ just wear the jacket I brought?” He begged his mother, Lily Potter.

“It’s too thin!” Lily shoved Harry’s red jacket in question into his suitcase. “I told you before, this is a _spring_ jacket. You were supposed to wear something thicker in the first place.”

Harry turned desperately to his father for help. But James Potter looked just as mournful, hugging his now-bare arms for warmth. “Mind your mother. And what’s wrong with my sweater?”

Harry supposed that his father’s banana-yellow wool sweater might’ve been considered acceptable during his time at 70s’ Hogwarts, possibly even flattering with his broader physique. But with Harry’s scrawnier body and even scrawnier amount of confidence, the sweater made him look like a deflated bottle of mustard. A long-expired bottle of mustard.

“The poor boy looks like a wilting daffodil, Prongs.” Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather, seemed to be the only person on his side.

“Can I have your jacket instead?” Harry eyed Sirius’s own leather jacket hopefully. He loved his father, but found his godfather’s fashion sense more aligned with his own. A much cooler, more sophisticated version of Harry’s sense, at least.

“Absolutely not. This is lined with genuine dragon hide.” Sirius betrayed him.

“You can have my sweater if you want, Harry.” Peter Pettigrew, the second of his parents’ best friends, offered kindly. Unfortunately, his bright red, newt-patterned sweater did not seem like a huge step up from Harry’s current daffodil situation.

“I’ll help you sneak into Hogwarts if you let me have it,” Harry bargained with Sirius. Hope soared as a glint appeared in his godfather’s eyes.

Sirius was dating his parents’ third best friend and the Hogwarts’ Defense-Against-the-Dark-Arts professor, Remus Lupin. Remus had already apparated to the castle a few weeks before, as was customary for professors preparing for the upcoming school year. Both he and Harry would not be able to return home until the Christmas holiday. Even though Remus and Sirius often wrote to each other and used a two-way mirror, Sirius, although he would rather drink raw toad sweat than admit it aloud, was a rather clingy lover. He had been trying to convince Remus to let him secretly tag along to work even before Harry’s first year. Recently, he’d begun attempting to enlist Harry’s help as well.

“That’s enough nonsense now.” Lily swiftly put an end to any brewing schemes, along with the last of Harry’s hope. “You’d better hop on the train before it leaves without you. And no taking the sweater off once your out of my sight!”

With that, his mom slipped her wand out of her sleeve, giving it a practiced flick. A sheen of silver settled over the sweater, making it shimmer for a moment before it returned to its original, mortifying shade. Harry knew that try as he might to pull and tear the garment from his body, it would cling to him like a second skin.

“Was that really necessary?” He tugged at the itchy collar.

“It’ll wear off soon enough.” His mother nodded with satisfaction. “I won’t have you getting a cold during your first week of school. You’ll fall behind for the rest of the year if you do. Go on, run along.”

But just as he turned to leave, James pulled him back. “Not so fast, Fawn. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

_Hadn’t he suffered enough humiliation for one morning?_ “No, no, please-”

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Harry found himself smothered in a terrible blanket of hugs and kisses. His dad ruffled his hair one last time before allowing him to escape, as if his unruly locks weren’t already messy enough. He tried to fix it as best he could.

“I hate you all.”

“I love you too,” the adults chorused back.

“I love you more,” he sighed before trudging onto the train.

* * *

Fortunately for Harry, none of the other students had seemed to notice his great humiliation at the station. He traveled down the corridors of the Hogwarts Express, exchanging friendly greetings with a couple of familiar faces. But his main attention was on the compartments on either side. He passed by another three before his ears finally picked up on the familiar voices. Familiar, _shouting_ voices.

“That bloody cat-”

“It wasn’t Crookshanks!”

“Then where the hell is Scabbers?!”

“How am I supposed to-”

“Your wretched beast’s stomach is where he is!”

Both voices were cut off by the sound of Harry sliding the door open, their owners immediately whirling towards his arrival.

“Harry!” Hermione Granger, one of his best friends since first year, greeted him with a brilliant smile. She’d written happily in one of her letters that she’d finally be getting her braces off this summer. There were magical ways of fixing children’s teeth, but her parents were muggle dentists who’d insisted on the traditional wires and waiting.

“Harry.” The last, but equally essential part of their trio, Ron Weasley, draped himself dramatically over him. “’Mione’s bastard demon has done it at last. It’s devoured Scabbers, it’s...”

Ron pulled back suddenly, his red hair gleaming like copper under the compartment lights. “Mate, no offense, but that sweater... you look...”

“Adorable.” Hermione tried to save the day. “Absolutely charming.”

Crookshanks, her frumpy ginger cat presently nestled in her arms, had on an expression which told Harry otherwise. Or perhaps his face was always like that.

“It’s my dad’s.” He turned away from the judgemental feline. “My mom made me wear it. Apparently the jacket I had on before was too thin.”

“Can’t you take it off?” Ron asked carefully.

In response, Harry tried to pull it over his head. The garment glittered stubbornly.

“Well, Mrs. Potter had good intentions.” Hermione seemed more impressed by the sticking charm than anything. “It’d be bad news if you got sick during the first week of school. You’d fall behind for the rest of the year.”

Hermione had always been his mother’s favorite out of all of Harry’s friends.

“So Scabbers is missing again?” He tried to steer the conversation into a less embarrassing subject.

“He’s not missing.” Ron took the bait. “He’s _cat food_.”

Hermione cuddled her cat protectively. “Like Harry said, this isn’t the first time your rat has gone missing, and this isn’t the first time you’ve wrongly accused Crookshanks! It’s not our fault that you can’t keep track of your own pet!”

Harry’s own snowy owl, Hedwig, was already safely tucked into the new mobile owlery on the train, a few corridors down. He watched Crookshanks lick at his whiskers, and was suddenly very relieved about this fact. No offense to Hermione.

“Alright, alright, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. Ron, when did you last have him?” Harry fell back into his role of peacekeeper easily, happily.

Normally, the three of them would’ve hung out over the summer. The summer before their third year, Harry and Ron’s dads had organized an amazing trip to the World Quidditch Cup. The summer before their fourth, Hermione had guided them through her muggle city, introducing them to fascinating things like “karaoke” and “laser tag.”

But after a disaster at Hogwarts in their fourth year, involving magical criminal Barty Crouch Jr. breaking into the castle polyjuiced as famed auror Alastor Moody, every wizarding family in England had been on edge. He’d sabotaged the ongoing Triwizard Tournament, setting a full-grown dragon loose in the halls. After the beast had gotten into the boy’s bathroom in the left wing, setting poor Neville Longbottom’s pants aflame, the rest of the cross-school event had been canceled. Even after Crouch had been apprehended, he had refused to reveal his motives, and whether or not he was working with a larger insurgence. The professors had cautioned against the usual student get-togethers over the summer.

Of course, the three of them had still written feverishly to each other over the summer months, but now that they were back in person, Harry abruptly realized how much he had truly missed his friends. He’d missed Ron’s gangly clumsiness and clever jokes. He’d missed Hermione’s frizzy curls and well-meant nagging. He’d missed the sound of their laughter, mixing in with his own.

With two of the greatest people in the world now by his side, Harry felt as if he could handle anything this school year had in store for him. Even...

“Looking for something, Weasley?” A horribly familiar sneer appeared in the doorway. Harry also caught a flash of pretentiously-styled hair and long, pale fingers. Scabbers the rat dangled in between those fingers, writhing and squeaking in panic.

“Give him back, Malfoy.” Harry heard the automatic change in his own voice. All the good humor had left Ron’s face, and he took a threatening step forward. Hermione held him back, but she was gritting her own teeth, jaw set tightly.

“Do you really want him back, Weasley?” Draco Malfoy leaned casually against the frame of the door, bouncing Scabbers up and down by the tail as if he were a yo-yo. “A bit shabby for a proper wizard’s animal companion, isn’t he?”

Cruel gray eyes shifted towards a red-faced Ron. “Though I suppose he’s likely the best someone of your... standing can do.”

“No one wants to listen to your prattling, Malfoy.” Harry made a grab for the rat. The other boy jerked the animal out of his swipe, none too gently.

“I was talking to _Weasley_ , Potter. What are you getting involved for?”

“Why’d you decide to come bother us in the first place?” Harry shot back.

“Why’d you decide to blind everyone on this train with that horrendous sweater? Oh wait... mummy made you wear it.”

Malfoy’s snakelike grin only grew with Harry’s horrible realization. He must’ve seen what happened at the train station. He’d probably already spread it to the rest of Slytherin House. Harry could practically already hear the snickers of ‘ _mummy’s boy’_ and _‘are you cold, Potter?’_

This was stupid. This was so, so _stupid._ Malfoy, for some bizarre reason, had targeted Harry since their first year. He should’ve been used to his jeering by now. He should’ve known that it didn’t matter.

But the twinge of unwarranted fury at his innocent family unfurled in Harry’s gut anyways.

He wasn’t sure what he was angrier about—the fact that this slimy git was making him feel embarrassed about his wonderful family, or that he was allowing him to.

“ _Give Scabbers back_ ,” he repeated, a furious tremor rising with the words. Once again, Malfoy kept the animal just out of his reach. Scabbers’s cries grew louder, finally eliciting another from Hermione.

“Be careful with him, would you?! He’s a _live creature_ for Merlin’s sake, you stupid boy!”

There was something peculiar about Malfoy’s reaction to her insult, a strange paleness that suddenly came over his already-fair skin, making him look as if he’d seen a ghost. Making him look like a ghost himself. Perhaps it was just Harry’s imagination, but he could’ve sworn that there was almost... fear, in the boy’s thin face.

But the strange terror was gone in an instant, replaced with a crackling storm.

“Don’t tell me what to do, _filthy mudblood_.”

That was the final straw. Scarlet bloomed across Harry’s vision. His fist connected with other boy’s nose, hard.


	2. Chapter 2

“The first day back, no you hadn’t even _arrived_ at the castle yet, and you’re already causing trouble.” Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor House, snapped at Harry in her office.

He sat across from her, using every inch of willpower he had to keep from squirming under her steely green gaze. “Professor, Malfoy started it, he-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Mr. Potter,” she cut him off with an invisible blade. “You’ve just sent another student to the _infirmary_ on their first day back to school.”

_It’s not my fault that Malfoy’s a whimpering ponce,_ Harry thought to himself. The first punch he’d thrown had also been the last of the fight, if it could really be called that. The weak baby had fled the moment blood had started flowing from his nose, heading straight to the conductor to tattletale like a five-year-old. Harry didn’t see how it was his problem that Malfoy’s father had never taught him how to throw a proper punch.

Of course, he couldn’t say any of this to Professor McGonagall. “He called-”

“I said I don’t want to hear it!” The transfiguration instructor repeated, then sank deeper into her seat with a tired sigh. “I know that James and Lily raised you to be better than this.”

Harry felt a wave of exhaustion pass over his own body, mixing in with frustration. _Why was everyone so obsessed with his family today?_

Lily Potter, then Evans, had been a Gryffindor prefect since her fifth year at school. His mother had excelled in all her classes, particularly in potions, getting beautiful scores on all her O.W.L.s. and N.E.W.T.s. that had landed Lily her current prestigious position as a head magichemist for the National Potions Institution “The Cauldron.”

Meanwhile, James Potter had been the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team during his years. His father had led the house to total victories in his three-year reign, and had actually been scouted by a few professional teams. But his true dream had been to start a family with Lily, and so he’d found a career as a Transfigurator for a private shipping company closer to home.

Together, they’d been named Head Boy and Girl in their seventh year. Even before they’d received their honors, no one could deny that they were two of the most brilliant, most popular, finest students that had ever attended Hogwarts.

Harry’s sole feat in his past five years at school had been making the Gryffindor team as Seeker in his first year. And even that success had to be partially attributed to his father’s coaching since he’d been three. Things had only seemed to go downhill from there.

He was a mediocre student, particularly horrid in potions. People often mentioned how much he looked like his father, but it seemed as if Harry had inherited none of his natural social charm. Only his terrible eyesight and wild, uncooperative hair.

He hadn’t the faintest clue what he wanted to do with his future.

So, Harry Potter was well aware that he did not live up to his parents’ golden legacy. He had not needed to be reminded of it on the first day of his fifth year.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor.” Professor McGonagall produced her sentence. “And your personal punishment shall be-”

The door to her office flung open, Ron and Hermione spilling inside as it banged against the wall.

“Professor McGonagall, you can’t blame Harry for all of it!” Ron nearly bellowed.

“How-” The professor sputtered. Her office door was protected by multiple complex magical wards. “How did the two of you-”

The brilliant Hermione tucked her wand guilty into her robes as she joined in. “Ron’s right! Malfoy, he stole Ron’s rat then wouldn’t give it back no matter how many times we asked, and then he called me a... a...”

“A mudblood.” The word was an ugly whisper that made Harry grow angry all over again.

Hermione looked down at her shoes, and a grim sort of silence hung in the air.

Mudblood was a slur for muggle-born magic-wielders, coined by self-important “pureblood” families such as the Malfoys. It needlessly labeled, tainted, millions of incredible witches and wizards all over the world. Bright sparks like Hermione Granger. Like Lily Potter.

“I see.” Professor McGonagall was the first to find her voice again. Something had softened in the stern lines of her face. “I suppose...”

She looked in between the three of them, and though it was well-veiled, Harry thought he could see a hint of affection. Her protectiveness of her students had always made her James Potter’s favorite professor.

“I suppose your outburst was not entirely unreasonable, Mr. Potter. I will ensure that Mr. Malfoy faces his consequences as well. Fifteen points from Gryffindor, and I shall lessen your own punishment.”

Harry smiled at his friends.

“Two weeks off the Quidditch team.”

His smile dropped. _“Two weeks?!”_

“I believe I spoke very clearly.”

“Professor, Johnson’s going to kill me! I thought you said you were lessening my punishment!”

“I did, it was originally going to be two months. I’ll inform Miss Johnson of the situation. You’ll serve detentions with me during practice instead. I do not want to see either of your feet off the ground for the duration of your punishment. Dismissed, Mr. Potter.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest some more, but faltered at the flash in her green eyes. Minerva McGonagall was not a woman to be tested. She had dismissed him, and he would leave her in peace.

His friends moved to follow him out the door, but the professor spoke up once more.

“Not you, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger. There’s something else I would like to discuss with the two of you.”

Ron and Hermione cast apologetic glances at Harry, but there was nothing they could do. He shut the office door, and stormed down the winding stairs to the Great Hall alone.

* * *

At least the opening feast was as amazing as it always was. Gleaming silver platters of giant roasts and multilayer cakes sat in the center. Dozens of more treats blossomed around the main courses—lamb chops, chocolate muffins, and Harry’s personal favorite, treacle tarts. A thousand wonderful smells wafted through the air, strong sugar and spices which had already coaxed Harry’s mouth into watering.

But he’d barely reached for his first tart when two tall figures slid on either side of him, with matching glints of mischief in their eyes and Ron’s fiery hair.

Fred and George Weasley were two of Ron’s older brothers, two years older than their brother and Harry himself. In all his years of knowing them, he admittedly still had a bit of trouble telling them apart. Honestly though, they seemed to like it better that way.

The prank-loving twins were not mean, but let’s just say that Harry was glad that he’d already thrown his robes over his father’s hideous sweater. He fought valiantly against the urge to scratch at it.

“We heard that you punched Draco Malfoy in the face on the train,” the one on his right, who he was seventy-percent sure was Fred, announced. “Nice going, mate.”

“When you say ‘we’...” Harry replied warily. “Do you mean you and George?”

“ _I’m_ George!” The twin exclaimed, but then broke into a toothy grin. “Only kidding, I am Fred. And ‘we’ refers to most of the school.”

Harry groaned, glancing nervously around. He accidentally made eye contact with a certain sandy-haired D.A.D.A. professor at the front of the hall, who sent him a quiet glare. He slid down in his seat as much as he could.

“I don’t know what you’re so embarrassed about,” George pipped up. “All of us Gryffindors have been wanting to do that since forever. You’re a hero. Do you think you might’ve broken his nose?”

“Professor McGonagall certainly does not share your sentiments.” Harry swallowed glumly. Though he did hope he’d broken the git’s nose.

“What’d she do you in for?” Fred asked.

“Benched for the first two weeks of Quidditch practice.”

“ _What?!”_ The twins, both beaters on the team, yelped in a rare, horrified unison.

“Shush!” Harry hissed. “Angelina doesn’t know yet.”

“But our first game is in _three_ weeks!” George hardly lowered his voice. “Can you at least practice on your own outside of set hours? You could borrow the snitch, fly around on the lawns or-”

_“I do not want to see either of your feet off the ground for the duration of your punishment,”_ Harry echoed Professor McGonagall sorrowfully.

He picked at the food on his plate, appetite fading fast. Even the wonderful, heavenly sweetness of treacle offered little comfort at the moment.

Then, Fred turned to George. “You know... we could always ask the others if we could adjust the schedule for... that.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, but the other twin caught on immediately to whatever his brother was thinking. “Fred, I was just thinking the exact same thing. If it’s to keep our star seeker in tiptop shape...”

“...I’m sure everyone won’t mind,” Fred finished.

“Who’s everyone?” Harry asked. “What’s _‘that?’_ ”

But just as Fred leaned in to answer, another body started worming its way in between him and Harry.

“I’m _starved_.” Ron plopped down next to him, snatching a lamb chop off of Harry’s plate. George instinctively moved aside for Hermione to get through on the other side. They would have to finish the conversation at another time.

“What did McGonagall want to talk to you two about?” Harry stole his food back. “I hope you didn’t get in trouble too because of me.”

“Oh no, no.” It was Hermione who replied, then pulled him into a quick, tight hug. “Thank you again for standing up for me like that. But please don’t ever do it again. I’m so sorry that I got you in trouble.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Harry squeezed her shoulder. His eye caught on a new glint on her robes. It was a recognizable badge, laid in their house’s trademark red and gold. The metal ribbon in the middle spelled out Hermione’s new title in bold, capital letters.

“You’ve been made prefect!” he realized. “Congratulations, ‘Mione, though it’s honestly no surprise.”

Ron spoke up from the other side before Hermione could thank him. “So have I!”

Harry whirled towards him, and was rather startled to see a matching badge on his robes as well.

It was no surprise that library-hermit, perfect-homework Hermione had been made head girl. By Merlin, she’d been approved a Time-Turner in their third year by the school so that she could go back in time and take even more classes. Unfortunately, all Time-Turners had ben outlawed after that year due to a most absurd incident involving a Hippogriff on trial. Why a beast had been on trial at the Ministry of Magic in the first place, Harry had no idea.

But he had always thought that he and Ron were on a closer, lower academic level. Together, they’d always teased Hermione about her looming stacks of books, then begged her for the first paragraph of their essays on the history of Portkeys due the next morning.

Silently, conceitedly, Harry had hoped that he might be a bit smarter than his best friend as well.

And perhaps Harry had simply pretended not to notice Ron’s own increasing stack of books on his dresser in their dorm. Or the new, long hours he’d spent pouring over the notes he took in classes as Harry himself readied for bed. Or the any of the growing amount of effort he put into his studies, because he had decided last year that he would be a curse-breaker at Gringotts Wizarding Bank like his eldest brother Bill.

“Harry?” Ron blinked at him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, sorry, just spaced out there for a moment. Congratulations, I’m so proud of you, too.”

Ron gave him a long look, an unnerving sort of expression in his blue eyes. But before he could respond, Headmaster Dumbledore began his usual speech at the owl-shaped podium at the front of the hall. Gratefully, Harry listened to the great wizard’s sonorous voice reverberate in his ears, letting it drown out his own jealousy.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry stared sorrowfully at his broomstick, the beautiful Firebolt that had been Sirius’s present for his fourteenth birthday. He could hardly bear to touch the gleaming wood, knowing that it would only make him think of how well the grooves fit against his hands, improving his grip as he soared through the air, even the strongest of winds unable to hold him back...

“Mate.” Ron’s hand was on his shoulder. “We should be getting to breakfast.”

Harry sighed, and tucked his broomstick back in its place behind his trunk. _Two weeks._ That was what he kept on telling himself. _It was just two weeks._

The Great Hall was already brimming with hungry students by the time the two of them arrived, the ruckus of clattering silverware only muffled by even an even greater ruckus of excitement for the new year.

Fortunately, Hermione had saved them seats at the Gryffindor table. It only took a moment to spot her familiar shock of bushy hair, even though it was tied back with a red and gold bandana today.

“Morning, ‘Mione.” Harry took the spot on her left.

“Morning, Harry.” Hermione replied with a cheerful smile, then gave Ron, who had already begun scarfing down slices of French toast on her right, a rather dry look. “And you too, Ron.”

“Gooph murphnin.” Ron answered around a mouthful of egg, not even glancing up from his food.

“Good moon, Harry.” A sudden, soft voice on Harry’s other side made him jump.

Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw house was seated on his left.

“Good moon?” he asked curiously.

“A few weeks ago, I came to the realization that ‘Good morning’ sounds rather a lot like ‘Good _mourning_ ,’” Luna explained. “And I can’t imagine a situation when mourning someone or something is ever good, so I’ve been thinking about other morning greetings instead. I’ve already been through a few, none of which I’ve liked very much, but this morning, the sky’s clear enough that you can still see the moon. It is quite pretty, against the blue wash, so I thought, ‘Good moon.’ What do you think?”

This was a good example of a typical conversation with Luna Lovegood, who Harry had just met last year. She was one year younger than him, and known for being a bit eccentric. He’d first come across her knee-deep in dirt near Gryffindor tower, digging for Nargles, which were considered fictional creatures by almost everyone else.

Her attire was another thing that made her stand out, even in a school full of teenage sorcerers. Today, she was wearing a likely homemade necklace made out of copper wire and silvery rocks, a pair of multicolored glasses that Harry doubted actually worked like his own, and her favorite radish-shaped earrings.

As aforementioned, many of her fellow Ravenclaws, most of Hogwarts, thought that she was crazy.

Harry thought that she was one of the coolest people he had ever met.

“I actually like that a lot more than ‘Good morning.’” He meant it. “Good moon to you too, Luna.”

As she beamed back at him, Harry accidentally locked eyes with the other fourth-year girl sitting beside her.

Ginevra Weasley from Gryffindor was Luna’s best friend and Ron’s little sister. She had also had a not-so-secret crush on Harry for the past four years, always too quiet when he was around, staring too long at him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking.

Harry didn’t mind. She was his best friend’s only sister, and a fantastic Chaser on the Quidditch team. Plus, he knew that she was very nice, and fiercely protective of her loved ones. When people had started calling Luna “Loony Lovegood” last year, Ginny had pretty much singlehandedly put an end to it.

But despite all of her wonderful qualities, Harry had never found himself liking her back. As his mortifying father had once teased, he ought to have been thrilled, to have a girl as sweet and pretty as Ginny fancying him. Unfortunately, Harry’s heart had already set itself on someone else.

He knew that it would be kindest to let her down straightforwardly. He had just been trying to figure out the proper way to do so for years.

Now, with her large brown eyes zoned in so sharply on him, he chickened out again.

“Please don’t misunderstand, I love talking to you.” Harry continued his conversation with Luna, looking away from Ginny a little too quickly. “But are you allowed to be here at the Gryffindor table?”

“Oh, the house-based seating arrangement has been abolished starting from this year.” It was Hermione who answered matter-of-factly. “The professors have decided that Hogwarts’ houses healthy rivalry has gotten, well, a bit unhealthy in these past few years, and are trying to promote complete school comradery instead.”

“How do you already know this?” Ron looked bewildered.

“I read it in this year’s edition of the student handbook.” She cut a little smugly into a sausage. “Which you two should get started on reading as well.”

“There’s a new version every year?” Ron asked.

“We have a student handbook?” Harry blinked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but before she could admonish them any further, the clanging of a spoon against a glass from the professors’ table was amplified by magic.

It had been Professor McGonagall, who was standing up, along with Headmaster Dumbledore and the other three House Heads—Professor Sprout for Hufflepuff, Professor Flitwick for Ravenclaw, and Professor Snape for Slytherin.

Professor Snape taught potions, and was the person who Harry secretly blamed as the primary cause for his lower grade in the subject. Severus Snape had attended Hogwarts as a student in the same years as his parents, but had not particularly gotten along with them. According to his family, he was just like Malfoy, a deranged believer in keeping wizard bloodlines “pure.” He had especially not gotten along with James and his friends. At the dinner table back home, despite Lily’s distaste, Harry heard a story of how his dad, Sirius, Remus, and Peter had pranked “Snivellus” during their school days at least once a month. James’s favorite was the one where they’d created a snot-producing hex that caused giant, green goops to slide out of Snape’s nose whenever he tried to speak for the whole week.

This, combined with the fact that Harry looked quite a bit like his dad—the only differences being his mother’s green eyes and a small, lightning-bolt scar on his forehead he’d gotten from playing with James’s wand when he’d been six—made Snape hate him even before his ineptitude for potions had been discovered.

Even from yards away at the Gryffindor table, in a sea of other students, Harry thought that he could sense the professor’s freezing, dark glare directly on him. He tried to focus on the headmaster’s words instead.

“Good morning, students...”

“Good moon,” Luna whispered to Harry.

“I hope all of you are enjoying your second meal, and first breakfast, as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” Dumbledore finished. Cheers erupted among the students at his last, booming words. The headmaster waited them to die down before continuing on.

“A new year, a new beginning for many of us. I intend to make the most of it, and I hope that many of you do so as well.”

It was a usual ‘welcome-back-summer’s-over-work-now-begins’ speech so far, but Harry had always enjoyed the way Dumbledore spoke. He was a fine sort of orator, who knew exactly how to waver his tone and lengthen certain syllables to make one feel as if they were listening to the most important thing in the world. He found himself leaned forward just the slightest.

“And as with all new beginnings, new traditions are sometimes formed. This year, your passionate professors and I are pleased to present our intentions of breaking down the great walls of house rivalry, which we fear have grown too thick in these years.”

Hermione nudged both Harry and Ron in an irritating ‘I-told-you-so’ way.

“We hope that all of you will join us in this mission, and help us make Hogwarts a stronger, unified institution. Whether you are a Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin...”

Harry unconsciously peeked at the table farthest away from his own. Even after the abolishment of house arrangement, it was clearly still the Slytherin table, a distinct block of deep green and silver. He caught a glimpse of Malfoy, with a satisfyingly large bandage over his reddish nose. People like him and Snape would never mingle with “outsiders.”

“You are all the future of the wizarding world.” Dumbledore spread his arms out as if he could give the entire hall a grand embrace. “With this in mind, I announce Hogwarts’s first ever Cross-House Ball, to be held at the beginning of April, near the end of the second term.”

A surge of chattering, even more excited than it had been this morning, instantly came over the hall.

Large student-arranged gatherings—ahem, parties—at Hogwarts were limited to forty people, the curfew of ten at night, and usually to the arrangers’ house. School-arranged gatherings were very few.

Everyone had been very excited about the Yule Ball that had been meant to occur during the Triwizard Tournament last year, but the Crouch and dragon incident had ruined any chances it had. In the day after the dragon had been detained, the two visiting wizarding schools—Durmstrang Institute and Beuxbatons Academy—had left before any fun could begin. Even Harry, who didn’t consider himself much of a dancer, had been disappointed about not getting the chance to ask his crush.

Professor McGonagall had to tap her glass again to get the students to quiet down.

“Yes, yes, I’m looking forward to it myself,” Dumbledore went on. “Keep in mind that the hope of this celebration is to bring our four houses closer together, so we encourage you all to invite your friends from other houses into your groups.”

Ginny and Luna exchanged smiles.

“In the same spirit, we are searching for four students, one from each house, to work closely together on this challenging but magnificent project. Honorable Cho Chang from Ravenclaw and Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff have already volunteered. Please stand, so we can all give you a round of applause!”

Cho Chang, Ravenclaw’s Seeker. Harry’s crush for the past year. She seemed even prettier than she had been the year before, her silken, ink-dark hair a little longer, her cheeks a little rosier with slight embarrassment as she stood.

Unfortunately, around the same time Harry had begun to like her, she had started going out with Cedric Diggory. Six-foot-one, perfectly-coiffed hair, endearing-dimples Diggory. That was just his luck in romance. Of course, he had already been seated next to Cho, and flashed her one of those devastatingly beautiful smiles now. She grinned back with equal happiness. Harry, something ugly curling in the pit of his stomach, forced himself to applaud. Just like Ginny, he would have to get over it.

“We are still looking for our Gryffindor and Slytherin volunteers,” Dumbledore said. “Might anyone be presently interested? Two of our fine prefects, perhaps?”

And for the very first time in Harry’s five years at Hogwarts, the Great Hall fell totally, utterly, silent.

It was as if an enchantment had been cast over the hundreds of students, making it terrifyingly quiet enough for a pin dropping to be heard. Harry, along with everyone else, including even the seventh-year prefects, evaded the headmaster’s silvery stare.

He had always thought that accidentally walking in on his father on the toilet when he had been thirteen, Golden-Snitch boxers barely covering James’s personal areas, had been the most uncomfortable moment of his life. This school-wide silence now stole that crown.

“Well then.” Dumbledore finally took pity, clearing his throat. “If any Gryffindor or Slytherin does find themselves interested later, feel free to bring it up to any professor during these next few months. I shall let you all resume your meals now.”

“I can’t believe it!” Hermione was the first one of their group to begin speaking again, stabbing rather hard at another piece of toast. “Gryffindor, the house of the brave, and no one is willing to step up to the challenge? As students, we should be doing our parts to strengthen the school, which-”

“Why don’t you volunteer then, if you’re so spirited?” Ron interrupted.

“I would if I could, believe me.” Hermione was not the slightest bit frazzled. “But I’m up to my elbows in classes, O.W.L.s. preparation, not to mention S.P.E.W...”

S.P.E.W., short for Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, was a campus organization Hermione had founded last year. How she’d gotten into the treatment of house elves, Harry had no clue. He and Ron were technically members, but Hermione had a stronger following of mostly female students who believed in her cause. Harry’s own mother was a great supporter. She’d even magicked a full ten boxes of color-changing badges for the group to pass out on campus this year. Hermione wore one now, next to her prefect badge.

“What about you, Ron?” she shot back at him. “You’re a prefect as well. It would be a dutiful thing to do.”

_He_ is _a prefect as well_ , Harry thought a bit sourly to himself.

“Are you kidding me?” Ron backed away from Hermione as much as he could. “That sounds like a ton of extra work. Besides, I don’t really fancy working with a snotty Slytherin git like Malfoy.”

Harry grinned, holding his arm across Hermione for a high-five. Ron clapped his hand with an impish, freckled grin of his own. Harry reminded himself that this was still the same, awesome Ron. One trivial title didn’t change anything.

“Oh, you should consider it too, Harry,” Hermione pleaded.

He shook his head apologetically. “I’ve gotten into enough trouble already, Hermione. I don’t need McGonagall and the other professors watching me even more closely. I need to lie low, and not draw any more attention than I already have.”

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but was thankfully halted by a sudden storm of hoots and feathers. The owls had arrived with the morning mail.

Hedwig glided straight for Harry on gorgeous white wings. In front of him, she dropped a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ , a pack of homemade sweets from his grandparents, and...

“Oh no.” He slowly picked up the bright red envelope.

“A Howler...” Ron whispered, seeming even more frightened than his was. “It must be about your fight with Malfoy.”

This was the very first time Harry had ever gotten a Howler in his entire life. Honestly, he hadn’t thought that his parents were the Howler-sending sort.

“You’d better just open it, Harry.” Neville Longbottom, who was sitting across from them, suggested timidly. “It’ll be worse if you don’t. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it, and... it was horrible.”

Harry thought he could feel Malfoy’s greasy little smirk on him as he broke the seal with trembling hands.

It was not Lily or James Potter’s voice that thundered across the hall.

_“YOOO HARRY!”_ his godfather’s voice was loud enough to shake dust from the ceiling. _“WE HEARD ABOUT YOUR STUNT WITH THE SLIMY LITTLE MALFOY! WE HEARD THAT YOU SENT HIM TO THE INFIRMARY! THE! BLOODY! INFIRMARY! THAT’S MY AMAZING BOY! AREN’T YOU GLAD THAT WE TAUGHT YOU HOW TO THROW A PROPER PUNCH?! I TOLD YOU IT WOULD COME IN HANDY SOME DAY WHEN YOU HAD TO DEAL WITH NASTY LITTLE-_ ”

Malfoy was definitely glaring at him now. So was Professor McGonagall, and Snape. Remus had his head in his hands as the rest of Sirius’s Howler commenced, more praises and extremely inappropriate language.

Harry slid down as far as he could into his seat, and did not move until it was time to head to his first class.


End file.
